


Hurtventine

by beaglesinbowties (Girlblunder)



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 18:59:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9338627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girlblunder/pseuds/beaglesinbowties
Summary: It's almost Valentine's Day and Purgatory is the last place Wynonna wants to be.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Started as my own little angsty 'what if' daydream. I love these two angst babies, and I do believe you might be seeing more from a friend of mine in this same universe. :)

* * *

Wynonna takes a long pull from her bottle of whiskey as she stares up at the stars. Purgatory is overflowing with disgusting pink and red decorations, even Shorty’s normally grungy interior transformed under the power of Waverly’s determination.

Any other year Wynonna might find herself tucked away in some dive bar searching for a stranger to spend the day before the hated _holiday_ (really, it’s not) in a hazy fog of booze and sex, but this year she’s stuck in Purgatory.

She’s always thought the town name quite apt, but never moreso than this year. The last few months had been insane and painful; finding Willa only to lose her, and getting Dolls only to lose him. Doc roams in and out of Purgatory, tethered to the town (and maybe to her) despite his transient nature.

He’d wisely chosen to take his horse and wander out again the moment Waverly had brought out the decorations.

_“Don’t you think you’re going a little overboard?” Wynonna’s hands tighten against the bar top as she tries to suppress the urge to reach for a bottle. Waverly has become concerned about her drinking habits, and Wynonna at least tries to pretend in front of her sister._

_“Not really,” Waverly replies with a dreamy sigh. “I’m in love this year, Wynonna.”_

_The giggle that follows makes Wynonna’s grip strengthen, the edge of the wood cutting into her palms painfully. It’s not booze, but it’ll do._

_The door opens, and then there’s the thud of familiar boots. “Whoa now, what’s going on in here?”_

_When Waverly rushes forward to greet the newcomer, Wynonna reaches over the bar to snatch up a bottle. She doesn’t need to be around for this._

*

Wynonna isn’t sure when she’d begun fixating on _her_ , when her eyes had begun unconsciously following the only truly steadfast person left in her life - at least one present by choice.

Except, well, Nicole isn’t really around for her.

It’s Waverly that keeps Nicole around the homestead and dropping by Shorty’s with friendly smiles and the occasional bag of takeout. Nicole doesn’t pop into the office with a box of Wynonna’s favorite donuts and a travel cup of coffee - doesn’t stand up to Nedley for her - for any reason other than she’s Waverly’s sister.

It’s ironic, really. Waverly has always been the other sister, second to Wynonna’s infamy amongst the Purgatory citizens, except in this.

Wynonna thinks it’s fitting in its own way. She takes a few long pulls from her bottle and lays down with a shiver, ignoring the few rocks poking at her through the back of her leather jacket. She’s tired, and maybe she’s walked further than she’d intended. Numbness begins to settle in as she traces the constellations with her eyes.

Perhaps it’s too cold to be out here like this - the ground is nearly frozen, and she might care if she hadn’t already downed nearly the entire bottle of whiskey - but for the briefest of moments, Wynonna feels something akin to peace.

The stars begin falling all around her, little flakes of white that almost sear against the exposed bits of her skin until that goes numb, too.

An indeterminate time later a shadow looms over her, the wide brim at the top making her sigh. “Go ’way,” she mumbles.

“Wynonna?”

Nicole’s voice sounds distant, muffled.

“Go ’way,” Wynonna repeats, only slightly louder than before. She tries to frown, but then forgets why she wanted to.

The shadow moves, and then the hands that find their way to her cheeks are shockingly hot - too hot against her freezing skin. She jerks away, sluggishly trying to avoid the flesh that makes her own burn.

The stars are whipping around her furiously now, and the shadow becomes more difficult to see.

Wynonna thinks it’s a lovely way to die, consumed by the stars, but then the shadow is pulling her up and the world tilts even as the stars rage in a torrent around them.

She isn’t sure how much time passes, but then she’s enveloped by shadow and gently moving. It takes her a few moments to recognize the interior of a car.

There’s movement in front of her, and she squints. The wipers are going furiously, trying to brush away a flurry of white. Not stars, but snow.

Next to her is low cursing, and Wynonna moves her head to sluggishly look at the driver.

“Nicole?”

Nicole’s lips purse, her face grim in the low light coming from the dashboard. “We’re not going to make it into town, not in this.”

Wynonna doesn’t say anything, still trying to process the last...how much time has passed since she’d wandered out of Shorty’s? It hadn’t been dark then, Wynonna knows that much.

She tries to discern some landscape through the windows, but there’s nothing to be seen but the unending white. She shifts, and then she realizes she’s trapped under a heap of wool blankets. This isn’t Nicole’s patrol car, Wynonna understands that much.

“Overboard much, Nic?” she says even as she shivers. The heater is almost too much against her cheeks, but then the SUV stops and is turned off.

“Can’t risk keeping it on with it comin’ down like this,” Nicole gestures around them, “muffler might get clogged with snow. We should be fine for a bit if we keep the doors and windows closed.”

There’s the sound of crinkling foil, followed by a distinct cracking. A second later Nicole’s face comes into view again, the soft green light from the glow stick casting odd shadows on her face.

“Good thing they hadn’t frozen yet,” Nicole says with a smile.

Wynonna nods once and turns to watch the snow coming down, feeling out of sorts.

*

_“I’m cold,” Wynonna says, shivering as she hunches closer to her sister._

_Willa pulls her closer, her head moving as she looks around the barn. “Hang on. I think Mom stashed some blankets here somewhere.”_

_Wynonna wants to cry out as Willa gets up - she doesn’t want to be alone - but she doesn’t. Willa is strong, and Wynonna wants to be just like her._

_“Here,” Willa says a minute later as she returns hefting a few coarse blankets in her arms. “Told you.”_

_She smiles, and it’s enough to make Wynonna smile. For a moment Wynonna can ignore the blotchy bruise taking up most of Willa’s face, and how much her own split lip hurts when she smiles._

_The blankets smell, but Wynonna doesn’t mind. Willa is with her, and for now they’re safe in the barn. Their father hates the cold, and with the snow coming down they’re sure his anger won’t carry him far enough out of the house to cause them harm._

_“You think Waverly’s gonna be okay on her own?” Wynonna asks, worried despite herself._

_“You know she always is.” There’s something in Willa’s voice, anger and something else._

_Wynonna wraps her arms tighter around Willa’s back. “He didn’t hit me when I was little, either.”_

_She doesn’t say more, though they both know Waverly’s long past the age when their father had begun hitting either of_ them _for the first time. Wynonna still worries for the day Waverly won’t be safe anymore._

_Her eyes close when Willa presses a kiss to her forehead, bringing the itchy wool blankets closer around them. “One day I’m going to stop him,” Willa says._

_Wynonna nods and tucks her head under Willa’s chin. Willa’s strong, the true heir as far as Wynonna’s concerned; she knows that one day Willa will be even stronger than Daddy._

“Are you listening to me, Wy? You can’t pull stupid crap like this!”

Wynonna shakes her head a little and focuses on Nicole. “It all turned out okay. Well, except I lost my bottle.” She tries to smile, but the attempt is weak.

Nicole makes a sound not unlike a growl, and then she’s furiously squeezing the steering wheel with both hands. “You’re so selfish.”

“Yeah.” Wynonna is tired. Too tired to deal with Nicole or anything else. She adjusts herself against the headrest and closes her eyes.

The wind howling around them is almost soothing.

“You scared me, Wynonna.”

Opening her eyes again takes effort, but Wynonna manages all the same.

Nicole’s eyes glisten too much, especially considering the nearly nonexistent light in the cabin of the patrol car.

Wynonna only breathes for a few seconds, contemplating what to say. “If anything ever happened to me, Waverly would be fine. Not at first, but eventually. Maybe she’d even be better off.”

The last is almost an afterthought, but Wynonna believes it all the same.

“Don’t say that,” Nicole hisses.

Wynonna sighs and shrugs. “She’s got you and Gus, and half the town loves her. The other half is too stupid to know quality when they see it.”

“You’re so, so, ugh! Damn you, Wynonna Earp.”

“Kinda late to the party on that one, Nic.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, so much so that Wynonna is pretty sure that they’re done speaking for the foreseeable future.

“You’ve got me too, you know.”

The words are soft and fervent, making Wynonna too scared to look at Nicole at first. They ricochet around in head and make her blood pump, something akin to hope making her fingertips tingle.

She doesn’t know what to say, but she opens her mouth all the same. Except, Nicole is shivering. “Here,” Wynonna says as she begins to tug at the layers of blankets tucked around her body.

“No, no, you need those. Your temperature is still probably too low.” Nicole crosses her arms and leans away stubbornly to emphasize her point.

Wynonna knows she shouldn’t - she _really_ shouldn’t - but she tugs up one side of the blankets. “Then we share in the back. Warmer anyway.” Nicole hesitates, and Wynonna rolls her eyes. “Despite what everyone says, I don’t have cooties.”

Nicole still hesitates, though only briefly. “I need to take off my duty belt or you’ll be very uncomfortable,” she explains as she leans forward in her seat.

 _Or too comfortable_ , Wynonna thinks. She purses her lips and raises her eyebrows, maneuvering slowly through the space between their seats to settle on the larger bench seat in back.

It takes Nicole some moments to undo the hefty belt and settle it on the dash, but then she’s grabbing the glow stick and scooting back to join Wynonna.

Wynonna lifts the blankets eagerly. She tells herself it’s because the larger seat is slow to warm to her body heat.

“Thanks,” Nicole says as she drops the glow stick on the ground and begins to tug the blankets half over herself. She pauses she sees she’s pulled too hard and uncovered parts of Wynonna’s legs.

As Nicole bends to carefully tuck the blankets back under a revealed fabric-covered calf, Wynonna raises her eyebrows again. “I’m not in my jeans.”

 _God, I’m gonna regret this_ , she thinks as Nicole’s hands smooth the blankets over her leg. The cold that has stubbornly sunk into her bones begins to ease - she’s warm everywhere her body is touching Nicole’s under the covers.

“They were soaking wet, a real pain to get off,” Nicole explains with a grunt as she straightens. “Luckily I had some sweats in the back.”

Wynonna internally shakes herself.

“And a mountain of blanke--oh, so you _do_ like to be prepared.” Wynonna almost regrets the words when she remembers that if Nicole has been making _preparations_ , those would be for Waverly. She makes a face as she looks down at the blankets.

Nicole snorts and tosses her head back against the seat. “Yeah, for _winter_ emergencies. Like this. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Im-poss-ible,” Wynonna sing-songs, grinning to herself. She’s not relieved or anything.

“You’re something else, Wynonna.”

Wynonna’s still too sluggish to come up with an appropriate response. She squints over at Nicole. “Where’s your hat?”

Nicole sighs, her head turning towards Wynonna. “I put it in the back when I was grabbing the blankets.

“Good thing you weren’t in your patrol car. I don’t recall Nedley keeping those so well stocked.”

“Looked like snow. My SUV handles it better.”

“So, what, you happened to be driving along...wherever we are and decided to stop when you saw me?” Wynonna is both glad the glow stick doesn’t give off a strong light and sorry that it’s so weak. She’d like to be able to see Nicole a little better, at least.

Nicole grunts unhappily. “No, Wynonna. You seemed upset earlier, and I thought, considering everything that’s happened that maybe I should try to find you before the snow hit.”

Wynonna frowns. “Was Waverly worried?”

There’s a long pause. “A little. I guess she’s more used to your moods. She thought you’d be fine, but...I don’t know. I just had a feeling.” She sighs. “Glad I trusted it.”

“Right. Yeah.” Wynonna swallows, knowing she must have sounded odd. Off. Nicole seems to know her well. Too well.

She recognizes maybe that’s where her fascination stems from; Nicole had always seemed to _see_ her, right from the beginning. It’s as unsettling as her need to be close to Nicole. Wynonna doesn’t _do_ close. Even Waverly is only as close as Wynonna feels comfortable with, a part of her walled off to protect both of them.

Of course Waverly wouldn’t have been too worried. Wynonna’s lasted this long on her own.

She doesn’t feel the tear slip down the side of her face, but she does feel the soft fingertips that are quick to try and brush it away.

“Hey,” is all Nicole murmurs before she’s tugging Wynonna around and into an awkward hug.

And, for just a moment, Wynonna allows it.

She clutches her fingers tightly against Nicole’s thick jacket, clinging desperately as she tries to stave off a wave of tears she isn’t prepared to release.

She can’t cry. Not now. Panic begins to rise up in her throat. So Wynonna does what she always does when the feeling begins to overwhelm her and booze isn’t an option.

She reaches up to curl a hand against the back of Nicole’s neck, her thumb rubbing against Nicole’s jaw a mere second before she’s tracing Nicole’s lips with her own.

It’s not soft or tender, but hot and openmouthed and demanding. Wynonna _does_ need this, though she’s prepared for Nicole to pull away at any moment - but Nicole is stiff against her only briefly, softening as Wynonna’s fingers trace soothing patterns against the nape of her neck.

There’s a surge of heat in Wynonna’s abdomen, relief and anticipation coursing through her veins at its easy familiarity. There’s oblivion in Nicole’s lips, and Wynonna doesn’t intend to stop until she finds it.


End file.
